


A Bad Situation for Both Of Us

by Milomus2



Category: Splatoon
Genre: F/F, I'm not as knowledgeable as I'd like to be on writing PTSD, Post Octo Expansion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, so if I represent it poorly let me know and let me know how I can fix it.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-08-28 11:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16722891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milomus2/pseuds/Milomus2
Summary: Agent 3 didn't have a roommate. Right up until her boss told her to throw her headphones at the elite octoling trying to kill her.





	1. We've got a situation.

“Captain Cuttlefish speaking! Remember- Splat anything sanitized, and make sure you have 3’s employee pass before you enter a track. And if you meet anyone down there, make sure to get them out without incident.”

Captain Cuttlefish’s reminder came in over the headphones each Squidbeak Splatoon agent had been given as they each climbed over the railing that blocked off the ancient subway system. Agent 3 had nothing to say to the reminder, but that was hardly a surprise to anyone present. Known as Amber off the job, she was always more focused on getting to work than conversation. Agent 4, however, was quite the opposite, immediately talking back. Agent 4, and that’s the same thing you’ve said the last seven missions. I think we’ve got it at this point.” Agent 8 responded, a hint of sass layered behind a factual tone, “Agent 8, and did we not forget 3’s pass once? And I seem to recall you getting in quite a huff over the arming stations taking your Hero Brella.” Agent 4 groaned before Cuttlefish cut back in, ever eager to explain something even when everyone present already knew. “Correct! Without that pass, the tests mandate your gear just like it does with any old entrant.”

Officially, the subway system was supposed to be flooded some time before this area of town flared up in popularity, but the Tartar incident made it pretty clear that that wasn’t quite the case. Sure, the station was still the only part that wasn’t waterlogged, but… That became a non-issue when a highly advanced artificial intelligence with the technology to enable the use of new dimensions in construction decided to save some resources and use it as the transportation center of their multidimensional torture game. That whole incident being the previously mentioned Tartar Incident. Given how crazy that all sounded, everyone agreed it wasn’t worth trying to get much aid from the city, but… the Splatoon didn’t have any better missions at the moment and both Agent 8 and the Captain agreed that they needed to shut the whole thing down. And so that meant traveling from track to track, trying to find whatever the source of it’s transdimensional features were and shut it down. So far they’d managed to cut off a bit of the tracks, but there were, it seemed, multiple sources. So more often than not the missions were more about just getting past entrants out of there after showing them where the mem cakes for their track were stored.

The day’s mission went fairly well, as it was. C.Q. gave them a lead on a possible station where a new source might be, they got an entrant out and directed them to the octoling immigration center (Seeing as most of the actual entrants were octarians) and cleared a couple new stations. The agents parted around evening, something fairly standard, and went their separate ways- Ruby and Soprano went to grab a bite at Crusty Sean’s, while Amber started the long trek back to her apartment, still owning a small apartment by the old Booyah Base, having moved in two years ago back when the place was the center of activity in the city.

In about 45 minutes, Amber was home. A humble one-room apartment, with her bed laying opposite a fridge and a desk she’d long ago covered in various weapon parts due to her habit of modding weapons. Enough space for her closet between the two, and a decent amount of space between the set-up and the door she hadn’t bothered to do anything with. She took off her Squidbeak gear, and threw herself into her bed, not bothering to grab a bite to eat until she’d taken a moment to relax. Her phone started to buzz as she got a couple messages, messages she knew she wouldn’t check for maybe another 10 minutes as she stared at the ceiling and tried to pretend the world wasn’t there. For a moment, she contemplated on why she didn’t want to answer, or at least, why she always felt so out of it. But she didn’t really want the answers to those questions. She put her performance in missions first, and so long as she was still the Splatoon’s best gunner, was there really anything to worry about? She got money from turf war and ranked matches on her days off, and got some semblance of purpose from doing missions, so as long as she was doing those things, she figured she was fine.

Checking her messages, apparently not everyone agreed. The messages were from Callie and Captain Cuttlefish, asking if she’d started looking for a roommate yet, or if she’d been hanging out much with the other agents, (No to the first, she didn’t need a roommate, at least not for the reasons they thought. And no to the second, she never really felt like going out if it wasn’t necessary.) Both expressed concern for her health but at least they didn’t press the issue. Probably because they’d had THAT conversation in the past. They were pretty sure she was isolating herself, and it would be good for her anxiety to either socialize more or get a good roommate, claiming it might help to have someone she felt she could trust to help her out.

She didn't see the need. Sure, she had the occasional nightmare, or flashback, maybe some bad anxiety at times, but it rarely affected her on missions, so she didn't really feel any urgency to deal with it. And she didn't want to burden anyone else with what she saw as her own weakness. And besides, how much would a roommate or a social life actually deal with that? She was pretty sure if anything it might make things worse than they were. So she stayed on her own, and while Callie and Cuttlefish kept bothering her about it, they knew she wasn't budging.

As if by fate, however, tonight she couldn't sleep. Memories of fighting the Octarian army all alone, herself against an army that had prepared for 100 years to attack again, knocked at the edge of her mind and kept her awake, silently afraid that she'd have nightmares if she slept. A glance to her clock told her it was 10:00 PM, so the Captain might still be awake, as well as maybe a couple others of the guidance portion of the Splatoon. So she got dressed and radioed the frequency they used for missions. “Agent 3 calling the Splatoon. I can't sleep, I'm going to solo some of the subway. We got that lead and never got to look into it, so I'm going to do that. Who reads me?”

3 voices came in. First, Cuttlefish. “Captain Cuttlefish. I read you, and you should sleep anyways! All the same, heaven forbid you do this without my supervision.” Then, Marie. “Agent 2. I read. Supervising you should kill some time, and I don’t have anything to do until midnight. If this goes that long though, I will have to drop off for my so-called study tips show.” and last, Marina. “DJ Hyperfresh. I read. Not much else to say. Let us know when you're actually there.” Amber still had a hard time believing that they were actually letting Pearl and Marina use their chat names as code names, but apparently they weren't technically part of the Splatoon, so they didn't have to follow the rules.

A brisk jog found her at the subway again before long. “Made it.” Cuttlefish gave the usual reminder, which Amber was only half paying attention to. She descended into the subway, and started to get on the train, but she heard something unusual that prompted her to stay at the station for a moment. It sounded like… “Another train? Agent 3 on the line, I hear a second train I think.” “Agent 2. Are you sure? I thought we were pretty certain that C.Q. ran the only active train.” She walked over to the other side of the platform. “Agent 3. Definitely a second one. DJ, any records that might explain it?” Marina's voice came in. “DJ. it's possible? A quick search of the data we got from Tartar’s servers notes a “malfunction” of one train, so at least a second train is mentioned. But I can't say we know anything else.” Amber held her Hero Shot where she could attack if she had to, watching as the new train rolled into the station. It slowed and stopped, and sat silent for a moment. And for a moment, it seemed as lifeless as a train ought to be in an abandoned subway station. Amber was tempted to write it off as a train that just ran automatically, given the supposed malfunction. So she began to lower her weapon.

With a slam, the nearest doors were thrust open, and a _non_ -sanitized octoling jumped out, slamming a roller down and getting a fair deal of ink on Amber, shouting some battle cry in Octarian. Amber had never learned the language, so it was just nonsense to her. Amber dashed to one side as adrenaline suddenly coursed through her, firing on the octoling as she tried to dodge its roller, her aim giving her a shot to get a better look at it. A look that she had to admit bothered her a bit. The octoling had black tentacles, and four strips of seaweed nestled between them. Marking her as an elite octoling, and one a couple steps above a regular elite, which were already challenging for her. Though it seemed to be wearing the outdated armor, from when she first fought the Octarian army. A simple metal breast plate, belt, and metal goggles fashioned after round eyes, all on top of some tight black garments and accompanied by combat boots and gloves, the spitting image of a soldier she might have fought two years ago. Nonetheless, she had her focus on fighting it, not it’s appearance, throwing down a slew of autobombs, (A product of that modding- the most ink-efficient autobombs seen in any modern weapon. Sheldon kept bothering her for the method, but even with an adrenaline-boosted mind, she couldn’t afford to distract herself by lingering on distractions like recalling that.) firing almost non-stop as she tried to stay out of range. The octoling’s strategy seemed to disregard the wave, weaving around them and continuing to focus on mowing down Amber.

Cuttlefish was saying something, but she wasn't really listening, until he shouted at her to… throw her headphones at it? She was confused, but running on instinct rather than logic at the moment, she had already thrown the headphones by the time she'd thought to be confused. The octoling grabbed them before raising it's roller for another attack…before pausing, and saying something in Octarian into the headphones, having apparently heard something from them. Amber just watched as the octoling had a conversation with… Marina, probably? Marina would know octoling, maybe they were negotiating. The octoling seemed unnerved by Amber, suddenly, and shortly tossed the headphones back before folding the roller back and standing patiently, waiting for something. She put the headphones back on.

“Agent 3. What the heck just happened? Did Marina talk to the octoling?” “DJ Hyperfresh. No, I didn’t. It was actually-” Cuttlefish spoke up, audible pride present in his voice. “I did! I'll have you know I'm fluent in Octarian. I was around when our species were on good terms, after all, and a good friend of mine was Octarian.” His tone turned more serious. “I told them you outranked them, and you do. Took some convincing, but I'm the most authorized person to let them know that you have 20 Cuttlefish Stars. Fighting you would certainly end in loss.” Amber paused. Cuttlefish Stars? “Agent 3. What the heck is a Cuttlefish Star??” “Agent 2, still here, and they're an old form of inkling rank. 20 would be like 5 seaweed strings. It's also about as high as the system measures.” “Agent 3, _why do I have 20, then?_ ” Cuttlefish sounded like he was grinning as he spoke again. “Hah! Captain speaking, and that's where we get to my plan. The soldier knows you don't know either, and I’ve invited them to come with you to the base tomorrow to get the details. In the meantime, I’ve asked them to stay with you. It should be better accommodations than the subway has, and it will allow for both of you to keep an eye on each other.” Amber took a moment to process that. “Agent 3. Captain, is this a thinly veiled plot to get me a roommate?” Marie spoke up. “Agent 2. Yes, yes it is, Agent 3.” “Captain Cuttlefish. And not OFFICIALLY, no, but you do need one! Besides, they don’t speak Inklish it seems, they shouldn’t even bother you. And besides, if they’re hostile, it’s obviously a no-go.” Amber sighed. “Agent 3. Captain, you slippery fish. Fine. I just hope they’re hostile. I’m shutting off the radio.” Cuttlefish nearly voiced an objection before Amber did as she said she would, before starting to walk out of the subway, gesturing for the octoling to follow. It… Well, Amber should stop seeing it as just a soldier, if it was going to be peaceful. The octoling looked female so… SHE followed after Amber, who was trying to balance keeping an eye on her and ignoring her as she lead the way back. There were only two real events of note on the way back: Amber shocked herself on the bars blocking the subway, and there was an uneasy silence between them as they walked, if silence could be called an event.

Arriving at the apartment, she finally started on figuring out what to do with the octoling. First… what was her name? She opted to go with asking the best way she could, the language barrier being a bit of a complication. She pointed to herself. “Amber. I'm Amber.” And pointed to the octoling. The octoling got the signal, and responded. “Crescendi.” Amber nodded. She had to admit, she sorta liked the name. Her thoughts turned to how late it was, though. She tossed off her headphones, slipped out of her shoes, and dumped her blanket on the floor in the space between her bed and the door, gesturing towards it as something for Crescendi to sleep on as she jumped into bed, too tired to undress more. She heard the sound of metal hitting the floor, probably Crescendi removing her own gear, the sound prompting her to sit up and look. Crescendi looked pretty different without the armor. At the very least, she looked more like a person to Amber. Crescendi laid herself down on the blanket, and flipped Amber the bird. Well, that said good things about them rooming together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wouldn't call myself an experienced writer by a long shot, so constructive criticisms or tips are generally appreciated. Hope folks enjoy.


	2. What's the situation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, some stuff happens including, but not limited to, Captain Cuttlefish being a bad boss, Crescendi flipping people off some more, and some tasty snacks, but most importantly, Amber has a PTSD flashback. I confess my resources were somewhat limited in researching PTSD in regards to whether a character should have it or how it manifests, and I've done my best to portray it with some respect, but if there's any way I can improve my depiction, let me know.

Amber slept away the night, the skirmish and new roommate temporarily relieving her of fears of her own nightmares. She slept well enough thanks to that small distaction, only a bad memory or two surfacing in the night, but nothing she’d remember in the morning. That’s how it often was, except for the occasional incident that inspired her concern for nightmares. But tonight, she slept fairly well. 

And then, she woke up. She sat up in bed, noticed that her pillow had fallen off her bed at some point in the night, and reached to get it. She didn’t have her blanket, and she was trying to figure out where it had gone, when she saw Crescendi, already up and dressed in her armor, folding up her blanket. And she remembered the night before. But along with it, she remembered a bit too much, seeing the armored octoling in her room. Suddenly she was on the ground, enemy ink on all sides and her headphones held by one of the octolings standing over her, her weapon taken, she was vulnerable and afraid and all these octolings were standing too close. Her eyes looked about for an exit but she couldn’t find one, and she couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear, by her own weakness, forced to watch as the octoling took her weapon and fired, bullets of ink seeming to fly in slow motion and without end… In the distance, she thought she heard a concerned voice, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying, and she was too focused on the onslaught of ink coming from the octolings around her, seeming to persist in her mind as she shut her eyes, and suddenly she had her headphones back on, and she heard another voice, as distant as the last but louder. And then, Tide Goes Out, the solo by Marie was playing in her ears. The song hadn’t come out yet when this had happened, she remembered. She kept her eyes shut, focusing on the music and her breathing. In, out, in, out.

She opened her eyes. Crescendi was sitting on her bed… she’d fallen on the ground, since the flashback came while she was reaching for the pillow. The octoling was staring at her, (with what expression she wasn’t sure, since they still had their mask on) and Amber WAS wearing her headphones, and the music WAS playing, so… She put together that Crescendi had given her the headphones. Probably after figuring out she was having a flashback and radioing the Captain, since he spoke Octarian. She had to admit, at least the octoling seemed capable. “Crescendi? Thank you.” Crescendi nodded. Amber doubted she knew what she said, but the sentiment was probably clear.

The music stopped, and Captain Cuttlefish spoke up. His tone was somewhere between concern and building frustration. “Captain Cuttlefish. Going by that you addressed someone calmly, I'll assume you're fine, now. But to be sure I'm informed, confirm for me: Did you just have a flashback or panic attack? And if so, could I ask why you have not mentioned this before?” Amber paused. She was pretty sure he knew already. “Agent 3. Yes, I had a flashback. I thought you knew I had those.” “Captain, and no I didn't! You've mentioned you had anxiety, so I knew you could be at risk for a panic attack but you've never mentioned having them before, or freaking PTSD! We'll have a better conversation about this when we talk later about the stars. On that note, come whenever you're comfortable. I got up early to make crabby cakes.”

Amber sighed and turned the headphones back off. “Great. Just great. Gonna have a mental health conversation with my boss on top of giving a possibly hostile octoling the information that's only ensuring cooperation by virtue of her curiosity.” She sighed. “At least there's crabby cakes.” She stood up, setting the headphones aside. No need for agent wear, it sounded like this was probably going to be more casual than anything else. So she opened her closet, grabbed a classic boater and a pair of mint Dakroniks, and put those on alongside her jacket, still on from last night. With that, she walked past Crescendi and opened the door, gesturing for Crescendi to come with her.

It wasn’t a terribly far walk to one of the manholes by the old Booyah Base, since Amber lived closer to it than to Inkopolis Plaza. And as Crescendi watched Amber jump in to the sewers by going through the grate, Amber couldn’t help but imagine the look of surprise on Crescendi’s face- shock at seeing someone go into the sewers when they were supposed to be taking you to a military base was pretty clear regardless of culture or language barrier. All the same, it WAS the best way to the Captain’s hut. And she heard Crescendi fall on the walkway behind her, taking that as enough cue that the octoling was still following as she lead the way through the sewer. The air bore the odor of waste and the walkway was dimly lit by maintenance lights, not enough to make out details, but well enough to see by. Perhaps the only indication that this was the path to the Squidbeak Splatoon’s main base was that the walkway was clean and well maintained, as well as orange markers placed at any split in the system to guide the agents. Amber had long gotten used to the environment, but Crescendi focused on the walls, apparently hoping to keep from feeling too sick.

And after another decently long walk, Amber lead the way up a ladder, and out of the sewers, stopping a couple rungs from the grate out, and throwing herself upward, turning into a squid as she did, getting her cleanly on the other side of the grate. It didn’t open from below, and she doubted Crescendi would be quite so agile- it took her forever on her first time, after all. She wasn’t the agent she was today, then.

So she was a bit startled when a jet of ink rushed by, before Crescendi slammed on the ground next to her. Did… did she just super jump without a beakon or ally? Amber supposed she’d seen some octolings doing it when she’d fought them in the past, but it still caught her off guard to see it now. Already she was separating her idea of Crescendi from the idea of a high-ranking elite octoling, and this incident somewhat corrected that. If they did have to fight, it would definitely be interesting, she supposed.

The captain was waiting outside his hut, surprisingly still looking quite chipper despite the presence of an elite who still considered them enemies, and despite his earlier reprimanding of Amber. Octavio was… Not in the area, it seemed, which was also surprising. Normally his vanishing was paired with broken glass and at least one Splatoon member vanishing too. Captain cuttlefish broke the forming silence with his greeting, “Hello! I’m glad you two made it.” Before repeating it in Octarian, directing it towards Crescendi. He beckoned the two of them inside, simply saying “Come.” before entering his hut.

Amber followed him, and Crescendi followed her. He gestured for the two of them to sit, evidently trying to make use of gestures where possible in light of the language gap. Neither of them sat, though, both surprised by the presence of someone else in the room. An octoling man, tall and broad shouldered, in the same clothes that Octarians were known to wear 100 years ago. And he was wearing Octavio’s crown. The two stared for a moment, before finally sitting when he didn’t do anything hostile. Amber turned to see how Crescendi was taking things, and was a little surprised that she was flipping the octoling off, something that made Cuttlefish chuckle. After which he cleared his throat, marking that he was being serious now.

“I’ve brought in Octavio so I don’t have to repeat myself every time I speak.” Octavio nodded and walked over to Crescendi, saying something in Octarian as he did, Cuttlefish pausing like this was a demonstration. “So here’s the information you’ve been waiting for. Cuttlefish stars are something I made up as a joke when I joined the Great Turf War. I would grant them as rewards for both personal achievement and military achievement. However, they got quite popular, especially as I climbed the ranks, and I managed to pull some strings to make them official. The most a soldier could earn was twenty, approximately equivalent to five seaweed strips. And as I said, Agent 3 has earned all twenty. To really answer your questions, here’s why.” He paused, clearly for effect, before continuing. “She took down the Octarian army in its prime. It had been preparing for 100 years to take down Inkopolis, and she took it all down singlehandedly. She managed to prevent Octavio’s escape for about… One and a half years, by beating him every time he escaped. I’d say that someone who could do that has earned, say, 15 stars? Ten for taking down the army, five for beating the best general multiple times. And lastly, another five for their actions during the events of our discovery of the subway, which I understand were focused largely around stealth and espionage, skills they had little practice with when I’d last checked.” It was true, she’d had to sneak around a lot. But it helped when she got an employee’s CQ-80.

Amber noticed Crescendi in her peripheral view doing something, so she turned to look, and… She had her hand over her mouth, her mask still hiding much of her expression but Amber could still see some lines on her forehead from whatever her eyebrows were up to indicating some… Confusion? Concern? She wasn’t sure. Cuttlefish continued. “Octavio, stop translating, I need to talk to Agent 3… at least semi-privately. Maybe talk to the octoling and see what her deal is.” Octavio nodded, and began a hushed conversation with Crescendi. “3. I wasn’t quite sure of how I wanted to proceed with this matter. Then I learned of your flashback from Crescendi when she radioed me about it, and you’ve implied they’re moderately common. So here’s my thinking. She proved quite capable at helping you, even if she was likely the trigger given your experience. She needs a place to stay and I can’t leave you on your own in good conscience now. Do you see where I’m going?” 

At the prompting, Amber put two and two together. “No. I’m not taking her as a roommate.” Cuttlefish smirked and responded. “Yes you are. I order it as Captain of the Squidbeak Splatoon. So either you take it, or you’re dropped out of the Splatoon.” Amber was stunned. “Is that a threat?”   
“It’s an order. For your health.”   
“She tried to KILL me! Have we forgotten that detail?”   
“No, but I have good cause to suspect that it was a misunderstanding. Speaking of, am I right Octavio?”  
Octavio turned towards Cuttlefish. “Right about what?”  
Cuttlefish repeated, “It was a misunderstanding, right?”  
Octavio started, “Yes, it turns out-”  
Cuttlefish interrupted. “No, don’t tell agent 3. Whatever it is, I want them to work it out themselves.”  
Agent 3 was fuming. It was clear she’d lost her say in the matter, and she was seriously starting to wonder if Captain Cuttlefish had always strung people along by their own curiosity. Captain Cuttlefish continued to address Octavio. “Let the girl know, will you? And make sure she knows to come here in the evenings to learn some Inklish, she’ll need it. And similarly,” He addressed Amber again. “You’ll be getting some lessons in Octarian from Octavio. That’s not an order, but trust me when I say it’ll help you two bridge the gap.”

Amber paused, as a question came to her. “Wait, why is Octavio helping with this?”  
Cuttlefish shrugged. “He happens to find the whole thing pretty entertaining. And he said something about not wanting to ruin my ‘perfectly good soldier’ when he heard about the flashback, so he’s on board with her rooming with you. Mostly though… We’re both curious about how it might go.” He chuckled. “I mean, ‘Isolated secret agent with a dark past is forced to live with and guide a high-ranking official from the enemy team’ sounds like a book I’d read, especially with the twist that ‘The secret agent occasionally needs help recovering from their past, and this official has proven capable of helping them’. Reluctant co-dependence is always a good addition to a story, I’d say.”

Amber flipped him off. She was pretty sure this was a violation of some workplace code now that she thought about it, but then, her whole employment with the Splatoon was voluntary and relatively under-the-table, so she didn’t have many options, except for a little protest.

“I’m not going to go on any missions this month, then.” 

If this was happening, she didn’t want Cuttlefish to keep his best agent. She didn’t want to quit either, she liked the missions, but it was more important to cut back than to give him the idea that he could do this thing more often.

His expression soured somewhat, but at least she was turning her under-the-table employment against him. He sighed, “Fine. If that’s what it takes. You’re free to go once Octavio finishes with the octoling.” As if on cue, Crescendi started shouting angrily, words that by the tone were likely cusses. Octavio grumbled, and turned to Cuttlefish. “You’ll be glad to know she hates my guts.” Amber smiled. At least Crescendi had her priorities straight, Amber thought. She grabbed a crabby cake and stood by the door to wait for Crescendi, biting into the meat-like sweet and refusing to talk to Cuttlefish more.

Crescendi flipped off Octavio again when they were apparently done and got up, and looked at Amber such that Amber could clearly imagine a glare under her mask. Amber didn’t blame her for the glare, even if it was undeserved. Neither of them were happy with this. Amber followed her out, catching up and walking alongside her as they passed through the sewers. The silence between them was starting to hold some tension, making Amber a bit uncomfortable. So… She decided to try a little communication. “Crescendi.” Crescendi whipped her head towards her, her (surprisingly long, Amber hadn’t noticed that detail before) tentacles almost threatening to slap her, as Amber continued. She raised her eyebrows to emphasize a question as she showed a thumbs-down gesture. “Octavio?” Crescendi started to smile, nodding vigorously, before responding with another thumbs down and asking, “Cuttlefish?” Amber smiled and nodded as well. So they were both mad at their bosses then. She held her hand out for a fist bump, and though it took Crescendi a moment, she hesitantly gave her the fist bump. The two of them continued to walk in silence, decidedly less tense than before. Once they returned to the Booyah Base square, though, Crescendi suddenly looked nervous for a moment, a slight frown on her face as she looked between Amber and a nearby road… Before she took off running down the road.

Amber ran after her on instinct, shouting “Wait!” to which Crescendi looked back but kept running, Amber chasing her all the way to Inkopolis Plaza. Crescendi ran through the plaza and jumped over the gate into the subway, and Amber watched as her foot caught on the top of it and she tumbled over, rolling down the ramp. Amber was there seconds later, hoping to check on Crescendi to make sure she didn’t scrape herself… But Crescendi was already getting up and running further into the subway. Amber worked her way carefully over the gate, before continuing her chase.

Finally they arrived at the station. Amber saw Crescendi run into the train she’d first come out of when they’d fought, and followed her in. And on the inside… The train had been gutted, all the seats piled up against one wall. Another wall had magazine pages strewn across it, marking a map of the subway unlike the one they were familiar with from Agent 8’s CQ-80. Parts of it were familiar, but they connected in weird ways. More magazine pages were on the floor alongside stained uniforms, probably from sanitized octolings, clearly denoting a bed with the uniforms being a makeshift pillow. And Crescendi was sitting next to that bed, flipping through a little book, before looking up at Amber, a hint of blush coming from under her mask. Like she was embarrassed to be seen here with the book. She stood up and walked over to Amber, head slightly lowered. Amber had no idea what was going on, but… She didn’t have the power or the will to press the matter. She lead the way back to the surface, Crescendi following her again.

Once there… She decided to lighten the mood again, tapping Crescendi’s shoulder and pointing to Crusty Sean’s food truck, before walking to it quickly, Crescendi looking curiously at it. Amber handed Crusty Sean two tickets once they arrived, and in moments, Crusty Sean handed them two Crusty Seanwiches. Amber lead Crescendi to a seat and handed one of the Seanwiches, and took a bite of her own before throwing a thumbs-up, trying to say ‘try it, it’s good.’ Crescendi took a bite. She looked confused for a moment, but smiled after a moment, and the two continued to eat the fried goodie. At one point, Crescendi grinned at her, clearly a big fan of the crunchy snack, and remembering earlier in the morning, she said “Amber? Thank you?” clearly not confident that those were the right words, but Amber nodded to confirm it, blushing a little. Something about Crescendi’s smile gave them a warm feeling, but she couldn’t pin down what. They had the rest of their meal in pleased silence, before finally making the trek back to Amber’s place.

Once there, Amber tossed herself onto the bed, just needing a break, her boater falling off when she hit the bed. After a moment, she turned to look at Crescendi, who was now writing in the book. A journal, it seemed. Amber began to wonder, since Crescendi didn’t seem entirely hostile now, what her story was. She lamented not being able to read Octarian, since that journal would likely have the answers to most of her questions.

But the biggest question stood now. What was in that journal, and what was Crescendi’s story?


End file.
